


Meeting Halfway

by WynterTwylight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 2x17, Angst, M/M, and reverse puns, can you spot the speed puns, has me with unresolved issues, if you squint a little - Freeform, it might be canon compliant, the fucking time vault scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:44:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/pseuds/WynterTwylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what I wanted so badly to happen in the latest episode (S2 EP17), so I hope you enjoy this little fluffball of my consciousness that I am all too happy to get out of my head. I might add things later, but I will acknowledge updates here.</p><p>8/8/2016: Yup, I updated it. Apparently it didn't have enough angst. </p><p>*sighs*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paramour

When Harrison Wells, no, Eobard Thawne, rushed towards him, Barry Allen didn’t know what to do. 

“No! No no no!” Barry yelled, throwing out his free arm in front of him, the other desperately trying to join. 

He thought that maybe he could muster up a lie about how Eobard had won, how he had gone home, had gotten what he wanted, and not been erased from this timeline, from this Earth, and of course, from Barry’s life. 

“Hey! Hey hey!” Barry yelled again. 

Eobard wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t listening. Barry’s eyes flashed frantically, searching for something, anything that would make this better. Maybe telling the man in front of him that he had defeated Barry, that he had defeated the Flash, could fix this, could stop the unrelenting rage, could still the distortion to his left that was supposed to be a hand, a hand that was threatening to kill him, a hand that once—

Barry’s free hand rose, no yellow lightning trailing behind it. He swallowed, faster than the eye could see, and with his palm facing in front of him, he very, very carefully touched Eobard’s blurred hand with his own. 

His index finger met the hand of the man he once knew as Harrison Wells, who he once trusted, and who he still trusted, and slowly, Barry’s hand connected with the rest of Eobard’s and interlocked the fingers of the two speedsters. 

Something within the older man broke then, and his blue eyes met Barry’s hazel ones, not with hatred, but with confusion.

“It’s okay,” Barry began after Eobard’s hand had stilled. “It’s just me, Barry. I’m still Barry. It hasn’t happened, but soon,” He continued as his other hand, the one still cuffed to the wheelchair, pointed towards the direction of the Cortex. “This Barry, your Barry…” His voice suddenly faded, and his gaze dropped to the floor. 

As hard as Barry tried, he couldn’t continue speaking, so he looked back up at the man in front of him, and sat in silence. 

Eobard stared back at him, puzzled. He quirked a brow, though he didn’t move to release his hand from where Barry held it. So when Barry pulled him down to his level, Eobard didn’t resist. And when Barry moved to meet the other’s lips with his own, Harrison Wells, no, Eobard Thawne, met him halfway.


	2. Stand Up and Deliver Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, didn't expect this to have a second part, but here it is. 
> 
> This picks up immediately after the previous chapter, and timeline troubles begin.
> 
> And angst, lots of angst.

_First Attempt_

“Let me outta here, Thawne.” Barry repeats against Eobard’s lips, his tone softer this time. “You won’t see me again if you just tell me how you did it. That’s all I want.” Eobard notices Barry is fighting back tears as the younger man shakes the hand that’s still handcuffed to the wheelchair—the _godforsaken_ wheelchair—to draw Eobard’s attention to the fact Barry is still trapped there. At the same time, Barry gives the other speedster’s hand a light squeeze where it is still interlaced with his own. Eobard eyes him suspiciously at first, but does as the younger speedster asks of him, disappearing a moment later.

“It’s all on this drive,” Eobard says after he returns to Barry in a flurry of red lightning. “Everything you need to know is right here.”

Barry reaches for it and Eobard shatters it before he can get close.

“No matter what _my_ Barry does,” Eobard points in the direction of the Cortex, his face turning cruel. “You aren’t him, and _you_ aren’t under my protection.” Eobard raises a thrumming, murderous hand, and the threat is clear. “It’s sad really, that you ran all the way back here, just to die—”

Barry runs.

He phases through the wall of the time vault, towards the particle accelerator, where he can run fast enough to travel through time.

He faintly hears Eobard on his heels, only half a moment behind him. A cry of frustration chases after him, and he figures Eobard’s connection to the Speedforce has splintered again. At least, he hopes that’s the case.

He should have told him the lie, should have told him how Eobard had won. He should have said _anything_ but what he said, done _anything_ but what he did—

He picks up speed, racing around and around and around.

And tries again.

_~_

_Second Attempt_

Angry and frustrated, Barry runs down the hallway of Harrison Wells’ house, through the great room, and right into the kitchen. Eobard appears directly in Barry’s field of view, perching on the countertop, birdlike and quiet. He faces the door. He expected Barry to run through it.

“I thought I taught you better than that,” Eobard tells him.

Barry sighs in defeat.

“Why do you keep making me race you? I’m not going to win,” Barry tells him. It’s hard enough to accept that Eobard is _still_ faster than he is, even months after his destruction. He wishes the other speedster would quit rubbing it in his face to serve as _motivation_.

“Look.” Eobard hops down from the counter and after two long and leisurely strides, steps right into Barry’s space. The younger man takes a step back and Eobard follows the movement with a step forward. Eobard had been hoping to intimidate him, and Barry is, rightfully so. “If you don’t _try_ you won’t _win._ Zoom will keep doing what he always does, but,” Eobard stops speaking and walks past Barry after shaking his head. “No, no, no.”

Barry crunches his hands into white-knuckled fists as his patience comes dangerously close to snapping. He all but screams in the other speedster’s direction.

“What is it now, _Thawne?”_

Eobard’s back is still turned as he peers over his shoulder at Barry. A smile creeps over his features and although he can’t see Barry directly, Eobard knows the other’s attention is wholly focused on him, which is exactly where it _should_ be. Eobard clasps his hands together and turns on his heel to face the other speedster once more. He knows his patience is still miles ahead of the other man’s, and that’s all that matters right now.

Eobard’s tone is stern. “Maybe the whole point isn’t to get you to run faster but to make you less—” Eobard’s index fingers, still part of clasped hands, point accusingly at Barry, “— _predictable.”_

“I am _not_ predictable!” Barry shouts.

Eobard crosses his arms, cocks his head to the side, and raises a brow towards Barry. “Oh really?”

Barry fumes, and disappears in a blur, only to come to yet _another_ stop when Eobard blocks his path and pushes him, causing him to step back in the process.

“Barry—” Eobard warns. It falls on deaf ears and Barry is dumb enough to run for the front door next, of course. As if Eobard wouldn’t expect him to try and go for the _obvious_ escape.

He runs in front and shoves Barry back yet again, placing two strong hands on his chest and _pushing_. If Eobard is back in this time, this _century, aiding his enemy_ of all people, then he isn’t letting Barry get out of this anytime soon. If he’s going to suffer, then Barry will too. This won’t be all for nothing. It _can’t_ be.

Eobard leans back against the door, and pretends to examine the nonexistent dirt under his fingernails, even though his heart is beating madly in his chest from thinking too much about all of this.

“Like I said.” Eobard’s eyes alone move to look directly into Barry’s angry ones as he speaks, “ _Predictable.”_ He returns to looking at his hand, and waits far too eagerly to see how the younger man will react. It takes a lot of effort not to smirk.

“Go home, Thawne,” Barry says quietly, unmoving.

Eobard glances at him and gestures to the house around them. _His_ house.

“I mean your own century, Eobard!” Barry yells and storms off at normal speed.

Eobard gives him a few seconds, and then goes after him, pausing in the kitchen. He finds Barry plopped down on Eobard’s _favorite_ sofa—it’s made from leather, of course—and the young man is clearly exhausted.

“You do realize you aren’t going to defeat Zoom by moping around on _my_ couch, in _my_ house, and drinking _my_ coffee—”

“—I am not drinking—” Barry looks up, and beholds a coffee cup. Its contents are steaming and very fresh. “Oh.”

“Do you want it?” Eobard asks, holding the mug out to him.

Barry’s eyes briefly light up before common sense takes over. “You’re not serious. _Eobard Thawne_ did not just make me coffee.”

Eobard merely gestures with his free hand, ignoring Barry’s justified skepticism, moving his index finger in a _come hither_ gesture. “It’s yours if you want it.”

Barry carefully stands up, and walks over to where Eobard fills up the doorframe between the great room and the kitchen. He reaches for the cup and—

—Eobard promptly proceeds to splash the hot liquid, the _boiling_ liquid all over Barry’s face.

Except that it never reaches any part of him. Barry’s eyes meet Eobard’s in a flurry of stormed lightning. Once Eobard’s pupils blaze red, Barry can’t help but let his own gaze betray the utter frustration he feels when he sees Eobard smirk.

He dodges out of the impending splash and brings up his hand—normal speed to both of them but blazingly fast to anyone else—and plucks the barely-spilling cup of coffee out of Eobard’s hands. He eyes Eobard’s sick smile, and throws the cup towards the nearest wall. Eobard lets it shatter, and laughs.

“Good, _Barry,_ very good.” Eobard slowly claps, tone mocking. “But you should know better than to trust me.”

“You didn’t have to remind me like _that._ ” Barry considers running for the door again, of phasing through the wall, of just _leaving,_ but decides against it. Thawne said he would help him. He just needs to hurry up and do it.

~

_Eobard holds out the drive. Barry reaches for it, almost speeds for it, but refrains._

_He regrets it the second Eobard pulls back. He should’ve seen that one coming. He waits for Eobard to shatter it…again._

_“One condition, Flash,” Eobard says before Barry can threaten Eobard that he will come back if it doesn’t work._

_“Name it,” Barry commands, voice strong._

_“I get to be the one to teach you about how it works. How you use it. How to defeat Zoom with it,” Eobard explains. “You will succeed, yes, but only because of my… assistance. I have personally seen to it that you won’t be able to figure out the equation otherwise.”_

_Barry mentally flinches. Of course Eobard would desire dependence. Even when he is no longer a part of Barry’s life, Eobard haunts him. The older man is so far from wrong that it hurts._

_Barry sighs. Eobard smiles._

_“Fine,” Barry says, “But—“_

_“But nothing, Flash.” Eobard quiets him with a finger. “Let’s go, shall we? We have much to discuss.”_

_Barry says nothing. A flicker of yellow takes off towards the particle accelerator._

_“For the record, I_ have _missed time travel, however short it may be.” Eobard adds, casually joining him._

_Barry runs them through time._

_~_

“You said you would help me, now do it,” Barry orders through gritted teeth.

“I _am_ helping you,” Eobard counters.

“All you’ve done is get me pissed off, because I haven’t gotten any faster since you’ve been here, and sure, you started to explain the speed equation, but _it makes no sense and you won’t tell me how to use this goddamn tachyon enhancement bullshit against Zoom because you won’t tell me how it works!”_

“Everything I have done has been by design,” Eobard says calmly. “Have patience. I know you, Barry. Am I…wrong?”

“Don’t make me admit that. You tried to kill me!” Barry tells him, moving into a defensive stance, pointing a finger. “You do _not_ have any _right_ to say that, not after everything we have been—”

“I tried to kill you?” Eobard flashes forward and cuts Barry off. His expression changes to something not far from desperation but definitely concern. Eobard didn’t _try_ to kill the Flash and _fail._ Not anymore. He has had too much time to plan on how to do it perfectly. He couldn’t have failed. He _couldn’t_ have.

Barry lowers his arm, and swallows, taking a step back. He said too much. He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he say that? Why—

“Barry?” Eobard is still looking at him. “Answer me.”

It is not a request.

“I—” Barry starts, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Eobard takes another step towards him.

“That’s not an answer.” Eobard’s voice takes on the familiar stern quality. “Use your words.” It’s a tone that Eobard knows makes Barry uncomfortable, but it also gets him to talk. It’s also the same tone Eobard used with troubled students back when he was still a professor in the twenty-second century.

He expects Barry to attempt to speak again, but the younger man doesn’t even _try._ Eobard can’t explain why, but it gets on his nerves.

Instead, Barry leans forward and kisses him because he just doesn’t know what else to do.

It’s quick, chaste, fast, very _speedster_ of him, and Eobard did _not_ see that one coming, and this makes _him_ uncomfortable. Not the kiss, just… not being able to see Barry’s next move, which had given the younger inexperienced man the opportunity to _surprise_ him.

Eobard is a chess player. He is used to knowing all major outcomes and then every permutation in between them. But this, yes _this_ move is the one that catches him off guard.

As such, it’s not a surprise when he slams Barry into the nearest solid surface—the wall next to the door—and holds him there as hard as he needs to.

Barry’s eyes widen, doe-like and innocent, shocked.

Eobard doesn’t believe that for a second.

He still returns Barry’s kiss, but on his own terms. It’s not as quick as the one Barry had initiated, but it’s still fast, and leaves Barry breathless with disbelief. The younger man _had_ kissed him back, but he hadn’t had much time to return it because Eobard hadn’t let him. Nevertheless, Eobard pulls away and lets him go. Barry doesn’t move from his place against the wall.

_Much better,_ Eobard thinks. He runs a tired hand through his dark hair, and steps back from Barry, his heart still fluttering too much for his own good.

If his thoughts would just _slow down_ for _—_

“Eo?” Barry says, bringing him back to the present. Eobard raises a quizzical brow, lowering his hand from his hair.

“Don’t call me that,” He snaps back, and Barry corrects himself.

“ _Eobard,_ then.”

“No one calls me Eo. _No one._ Why you?” Eobard crowds Barry against the wall again, studying him, trying to figure him out. Barry gets the sense he isn’t even really talking to _him,_ and as much as it may set him on edge, he doesn’t feel like arguing with it. “What makes you so special? That you would even possess the _audacity_ to call me by that name?”

Eobard abruptly steps back, noticing that Barry hasn’t made any move to get away nor has Barry’s anger made itself known again. If anything, the reverse is true. Barry isn’t mad or fearful, he’s just tired, and Eobard can see it in the way he hangs his head before Eobard now, in the way his shoulders slump. Thinking back, Eobard saw it in the way Barry hadn’t fought him when he was pushed into the wall not two minutes previous, how Barry just _let_ Eobard shove him where he wanted him, and then Eobard had kissed him, and Barry had kissed him back…

Eobard calls on the Speedforce enough to run backwards. It’s instinct, not choice. He can’t get away from Barry fast enough, can’t give the younger man enough _space._

What on _earth_ had happened to Barry? And more importantly, _what had Eobard done?_ He would never in a _million_ years expected _any_ Barry to show such vulnerability after the younger man learned of who he was and what he had done.

And this Barry _definitely_ knew what he had done.

Eobard keeps stepping back, until the backs of his thighs meet the back of the couch.

The only thing, the _only_ thing that makes sense, is that he and Barry… no, no _no._ He couldn’t handle this, not now. _Not now._ But he has to know. He _has_ to.

He looks up at Barry, flashes back in front of the younger man, who doesn’t bother to raise his head when he sees Eobard’s shoes before his own. Eobard’s hands brush against Barry’s cheeks, and Eobard notes that there is wetness where his thumbs stroke the bones beneath Barry’s eyes.

“What happened to you, Barry?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

Barry fights the urge to sniffle, but doesn’t shove Eobard’s hands away, opts to just let him wipe away the tears.

“That’s not a suggestion,” Eobard repeats, insistence creeping into his tone.

Barry takes that as the cue that it is, and starts talking, and _boy does he talk._

He tells him about how Zoom broke him more than Eobard ever did, and does, apparently, both literally and figuratively. How Zoom pulled open the wounds Eobard had made and then stabbed him again with sharper and more jagged knives. How the other speedster had broken his back, knocked him down, and had paraded him around the whole city just for the sole purpose to _humiliate_ him.

The first thing Eobard feels is frustration, because _Eobard_ is his nemesis, not this dark, black-clad speedster. _He_ is the darkness that haunts Barry. _He_ is the one Barry is supposed to be afraid of. The second thing he feels is annoyance, because what Zoom did, what he has done, serves no real purpose than to feed the evil speedster’s ego. It’s ostentatious and unnecessary. At least when Eobard had beaten the shit out of _his_ Barry it was to send a message to him and him alone. If Eobard had dragged him all around Central City after the fact, it wouldn’t have achieved anything more than that which had already been done, to show Barry who was in control. Sure, Zoom needed to tell Central City as a collective that Zoom was starting his world domination with _them_ , but come _on,_ world domination isn’t feasible, not when there are people like Barry in the world.

Because of this, Eobard officially thinks Zoom is an idiot.

Still, he keeps his words to himself as Barry talks more about how he is running himself ragged—literally—trying to figure out how to go faster, because he thinks that is the solution to defeating this Zoom character. How Barry isn’t eating enough, and isn’t getting enough sleep. He tells Eobard about how he has nightmares, and how they have gotten so bad that he is afraid to fall asleep, which just makes _everything_ worse.

“—so you thought asking me for help was your only remaining option?” Eobard breaks in when Barry is mostly done talking. He finished crying long ago, and Eobard has dropped his hands from Barry’s face.

“That, and I—” Barry pauses. “—missed you.”

Eobard _laughs._ He _cackles._ He _howls._

Barry’s glare doesn’t cut nearly as deep as he wants it to.

“Well, while this has all been very educational—and I mean that truthfully—you still have one thing to answer for me,” Eobard tells him when he can breathe enough to talk again.

Barry looks at him expectantly, silently telling him to go on.

“Why the kiss, Barry?” Eobard asks.

Barry looks away, but speaks up immediately. He was waiting for this to come up. “It’s not long, before… _your_ Barry, back in the 2016 you came from, expresses… an interest. Just don’t hurt him too much,” Barry says, almost _pleads_ with him.

It’s humorous that Barry thinks he would listen, but Eobard doesn’t laugh.

“Because I hurt you,” Eobard says in understanding. “Because I tried to kill you.”

“Yes.”

“After we,” Eobard continues. “Had _relations_.”

“Yes”

Eobard doesn’t say anything else because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Instead, he does what Barry probably expects and flashes away. Then he does what he knows Barry _doesn’t_ expect him to do and brings him another cup of coffee. It’s colder than the former, but the sentiment stands.

Barry tentatively reaches forward.

The older speedster lets Barry take it from his hands. Barry grins, just slightly.

“What, not going to throw it back on me?” he teases.

The joke falls flat.

They sit in silence for a long time. Barry sips his coffee and Eobard scratches patterns into the leather of the sofa with the tip of one fingernail.

“You get to try, Barry,” Eobard finally says when he has had enough of Barry’s rumination on the matter. “You don’t get to give up. That’s not your decision to make.”

Barry sighs and sets down the cup.

“And what gives you the right to say so?”

Eobard would be lying if he thinks that Barry’s words aren’t provocative. Despite this, he holds his tongue against the biting response that threatens to overtake his speech.

“There was a time, if you recall, not too long ago in _my_ timeline, where I had you on the ground, clearly beaten. Yet, you still yelled back at me, asked who I was, and you screamed it _so loud._ ” Eobard has the audacity to _smirk_. “I knew you had a fight in you, a passion, that could not be quelled so easily. It was a quality I always admired about the Flash.

“But you impressed me—I admit—that day. You came back full of hatred and frustration. But you also came back with an energy you didn’t have before. It made you push farther, go faster, to do _everything_ I wanted you to do _._ And it was _beautiful.”_

Barry sits, his coffee finished, staring back at Eobard with a similar fury to the one Eobard saw not long ago.

_There we go,_ Eobard silently tells himself and represses the urge to smile.

“Back then, what were you fighting for?” Eobard inquires.

“To get my dad out of prison!” Barry answers, as if it is a stupid question. But Eobard asks no stupid questions, and Barry knows this.

“But not for yourself,” The older man says.

Barry picks up the cup and tries to drink from it instead of speaking, but there is nothing left. He sets it back down, dejected.

“Then tell me, why are you fighting Zoom?” Eobard dares, despite Barry’s discomfort. “Humor me.”

Barry speaks to the coffee cup and not to Eobard, but the older man hears his response all the same. “I’m doing it for all the people he keeps hurting. Someone has to stop him, and I’m the only one who can.”

“Then you have your answer. I say such a thing because I have _seen_ you at your worst, and have _seen_ you not give up. So what makes you think that some _other_ speedster should be allowed get to you when so many more lives are at stake?” Eobard’s voice is raised. He looks at Barry, waiting for his reply.

Unexpectedly, Barry _smiles._

“And this is why I fell in—” Barry starts, but stops himself before he can go on.

Eobard wants to slap him. He’s had enough of Barry’s shit for one day.

“Just _tell_ me, Barry,” Eobard says, exasperated.

“No!” Barry shouts, and runs.

_Predictable. Always. So. Predictable._ Eobard thinks as he takes up his speed and chases after him.

He catches up to Barry at the front door once more, blocking his exit.

“Have to do better than that,” Eobard says. Barry takes off again.

A flurry of red lightning intermingles with the yellow in the room farthest from the front door, and Eobard stands in the doorframe, keeping Barry from entering the room.

Barry flashes to the bathroom in the next room over, but Eobard is there too.

“You make it too easy,” Eobard tells him again.

“Would you just _stop?”_

Barry doesn’t give him opportunity to reply, but it’s not long before Eobard gets to anyway, because then Barry runs down the hallway. Eobard waits for him on the other side, but Barry turns and flashes back the other way.

They continue, Eobard running to each end before Barry can run out of either side, effectively trapping him unless he can find a way out. Eobard knows he’s capable, but Eobard won’t be dragging him to that conclusion by any means.

Eobard watches him as he stops in the middle of the hallway, midpoint between the places that Eobard has been running back and forth from. A fist connects with the drywall in between two support beams, and after a crash, the speedster lets out a strangled and distorted scream. The fist is pulled free, and then blazing yellow eyes regard Eobard.

“I shouldn’t have brought you back,” Barry declares, stalking towards the older man.

“But I’m still here.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Barry repeats. “I really shouldn’t have.”

Barry lunges, and Eobard dodges. Another hole in the wall later, Eobard flashes behind Barry.

He taps Barry’s shoulder twice.

“I’m over here,” Eobard says.

Barry turns, his body already throwing the punch before his hand knows what’s happening.

_Too many tells,_ Eobard thinks as he ducks.

“Missed me, Flash.”

“Shut _up, Thawne!”_

“Then you’ll just have to make me, won’t you?” Eobard winks, and lets his eyes turn red and daring. “But to do that you’ll have to catch me first.”

He runs, feet hitting the ground of his home with familiarity, and then racing out of his house and down the street. It’s been too long since he has really stretched his legs, and Eobard has _missed_ this. All the while, he can hear Barry behind him, trying to catch up. It isn’t as if Eobard is running full speed, but he isn’t going easy on the younger man.

Ever so often he hears a hiss of frustration catch up to him. Eobard is doing his job, and he’s doing it _well_. He hates it, hates pushing _Barry Allen_ like this, but he also _loves_ pushing _The_ _Flash_ to the edge of his sanity. He _missed_ the give and take of the Flash and his Reverse because to Eobard, their duality is the closest thing to perfection that can exist, and it’s _beautiful._ Barry _will_ succeed against Zoom—he’s capable, Eobard is sure—but is success will be contingent on _him._ Not Iris or Cisco or Caitlin and certainly none of others that the Flash has come to know in this time.

He will succeed because of _him._ He will succeed because of _Eobard Thawne._

Eobard is so absorbed by this thought that he’s distracted.

And Barry _notices_.

So when Eobard tumbles to a long abandoned pavement, out in the middle of who knows where, he doesn’t see it coming.

Barry goes flying with him, and they skid down the street in a tangle of limbs. Eobard feels the skin of his right side scrape away before he registers the pain of it, and knows Barry must be feeling something similar. There is a delay when they both finally stop, a moment where the injuries have a chance to take over. Eobard’s head hurts, and he looks up at the stars in the sky.

However, before he can really take it in—not that he was _planning_ to, he just needed a moment—the younger man climbs on top of him and Barry’s face assaults his vision, full of anger, fury, and a little…is that _excitement_?

The older speedster soon has an arm barred across his chest that holds him to the ground. Barry’s free arm is raised to strike, vibrating and ready.

“Ah, so I must have showed you _that_ too at some point,” Eobard laughs up at him and gestures towards the shaking arm aimed towards him.

“Yeah, I learned,” Barry spits. “A _lot_ from you.”

“You still caught me though,” Eobard tells him.

_Focus on it, Barry, just this once, focus on it,_ Eobard urges, _come on…_

“But not because I was faster than you,” Barry replies, dumbing down his own success, as usual. He lowers his arm, loosens his hold. “Your thoughts were…somewhere else.”

“But you still caught me, didn’t you?” Eobard says again, driving the point home.

Barry removes his arm entirely from Eobard and sits up.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Barry finally lets himself relax, and Eobard sighs.

_There we go,_ Eobard thinks, _finally._

Suddenly, the older man’s right hand comes up and grabs the front of Barry’s shirt and yanks the other man forward. Barry’s hands come to rest on either side of Eobard’s head, and he looks down at him in confusion. The arm that pulled him there wraps around Barry’s left arm, collapsing his left side towards the ground, and Eobard encourages the falling motion by digging the fingers of his left hand into the space between Barry’s thirteenth and fourteenth rib with a full handed pinch of the skin and muscle there. The younger man lets out a brief yelp of pain as he’s suddenly flipped onto his back.

Eobard leers over him, smirking.

“Of course you had to do that,” Barry says.

“I had to prove a point earlier—which I did, by the way—but that doesn’t mean I have to _let_ you have the upper hand.” Eobard’s form casts a shadow—however slight—over Barry’s face. The moon is full this night. “You have to earn that.”

“Oh I do,” Barry says. “Believe me, I do.”

“Wh—what?” Eobard finally says, he wants to ask him what he means by _that_ , but the words don’t come. His voice is already shaky and he does _not_ like it. How many times was _this_ Barry going to catch him off guard?

It doesn’t help that Barry pulls the same move that Eobard just pulled on him not seconds ago, so that Barry is the one blocking out the moonlight for Eobard instead of the other way around. It isn’t about winning, it’s about proving a point, and Eobard lets it be done.

“You were the one who taught that to me you know.” Barry’s eyes grow wistful as he climbs off.

“I’m supposed to be the one who knows the future, Barry,” Eobard says as he sits up.

“Not this future,” Barry continues. “You don’t have to know everything, Professor.”

Now _that_ is something Eobard hasn’t heard in a long while.

“You know, you lose,” Barry retorts. “You don’t get to go home. Your descendant, Eddie Thawne, he shoots himself to destroy you.”

“Wh—what?” Eobard asks. Is he _capable_ of saying anything else?

“Your death created a wormhole, and we lost half of Firestorm before we got rid of it.” Barry isn’t even _looking_ in Eobard’s direction. Why isn’t he looking at him? “I guess I can cross off “Run into a Singularity’ off my _Things to do as a Speedster Bucket List_.” Barry laughs, and lies back on the pavement. It’s cool and cracked from their earlier impact. “But I guess I can also cross off the ‘Fall in love with my Nemesis’ box too.”

“The fall in _what?”_ Eobard jumps up, blocking out the moonlight again as he stands over Barry who isn’t even _moving_ to get up. No flinching, _nothing._

“Love.” Barry’s eyes move to meet his blue ones from where he’s staring up at Eobard on the asphalt. “We fall in love. It’s complicated, but we do.”

“Barry I…” Eobard starts, but he doesn’t know what he could possibly say. That explains the kiss they shared. It explains Barry’s hesitation and why he didn’t fight back when Eobard shoved him. There is a lingering trust there. Eobard means something to _this_ Barry.

Which means he may mean something to _his_ Barry.

Then the Barry Allen in front of him is on his feet, inches away from Eobard, and Eobard can’t think anymore, doesn’t want to.

“Get it right this time,” Barry says. “For _your_ Barry.”

Before Eobard can reply, to ask whether he is referring to the singularity or something else that is equally dangerous, Barry is gone.

He doesn’t chase him, not this time, and he knows he will never see this Barry again.

~

_Final Attempt_

“Now, onto the bigger question,” Eobard says, “Why are you here?”

Barry turns to him without hesitation. His face is set and his eyes are determined.

He has practiced what he will say next. He has rehearsed it countless times now, prepared for the moment when Eobard will choose to beat him over the head with his own fist and when Barry will “come to” and see his old enemy. Then Barry will feed him lie after lie after lie, because it is what has to be done. This time, he will get it right.

“Because I want to go faster and you’re the only one who can teach me.” Barry begins.

And Eobard listens.

And when Barry eventually promises, “If this doesn’t work, I’m coming back.” A part of Eobard knows that he means every word, even if he doesn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the fantastic cardinalstar for her unrelenting support of my works. I'm glad to have her on my side. 
> 
> Title is from a song called "Love in the 21st Century" which just screams Barrison so much that it hurts, but you should definitely check it out if you want to get the vibe of these two the way I see it. 
> 
> I'm gideonshipsit on tumblr if anyone wants to hit me up and yell about anything Flash related, or anything in general. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> EEEEK thanks for reading! That is all. 
> 
> ＼(^o^)／ ＼(^o^)／ ＼(^o^)／


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